


Caveat Emptor

by bethfrish



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-30
Updated: 2005-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethfrish/pseuds/bethfrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's dirty money, and then there's dirty money.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caveat Emptor

Their eyes meet in the back alley of some darkened restaurant, two shadows lingering far longer than what is necessary. Courfeyrac smokes the last breath out of his cigarette and leans against the wall, abandoning all pretense of needing to be there. It's not the first time they've noticed each other. 

Words are exchanged. Subtle innuendos that have no depth to those who aren't looking to interpret them, but rich—inviting—to the ears for which they're intended. When Courfeyrac flicks his cigarette into a dark corner and turns to leave, Montparnasse glides through the darkness behind him, twirling the stem of a rose idly between his fingers. 

They lose track of how many times they fuck. No wine, just to bed. Montparnasse makes Courfeyrac wait while he folds his clothes neatly on a chair, and Courfeyrac pays him back by leaving dark bruises in the hollows of his hips, teethmarks on the inside of his thighs, the whispers of _you're not going to be able to walk straight in the morning_ against the back of his neck. Montparnasse is so slight, so slender, that Courfeyrac can do almost anything he wants with him; pin his wrists above his head, hold him face down in the pillows as he forces his thighs apart, make it so that Montparnasse's knees are up around his shoulders, so that he cringes and swears when Courfeyrac pushes forward. They fuck like lovers and enemies alike, not seeming to care that they barely even know each other. 

Montparnasse is the first to wake up, some time just after dawn, and gets dressed with the quiet stealth of one familiar with picking pockets and slitting throats. He locates the knife in the folds of his vest, still undecided if he's in the mood to use it. Either way, there'll be no second night. 

Vaguely distracted by the discarded clothing through which he's conducting his search, he doesn't notice when Courfeyrac wanders in from the other room. Sleepily, the other man goes back into the bedroom, returning with thirty francs and _is that enough?_ Montparnasse stares blankly at the coins, tremors of vile, shameful disgust beginning to swim over his skin and through his blood; it had never occurred to him. He drops the coat he was searching, drops the knife into his sleeve, and simply leaves. There are many ways of acquiring money. That isn't one of them. 

He threatens Claquesous later when he asks about the previous night's robbery, but Claquesous can easily hear the distress in Montparnasse's voice, and detect the slight limp in his step. He doesn't ask about either one. 


End file.
